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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25676719">Heated</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/simplecoffee/pseuds/simplecoffee'>simplecoffee</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Marvel Cinematic Universe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Dom/sub overtones, F/F, PWP, Porn with Feelings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 05:14:54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,089</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25676719</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/simplecoffee/pseuds/simplecoffee</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Carol makes some promises. Not aloud, though - not quite.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Carol Danvers/Natasha Romanov</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Rare Pairs Exchange 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Heated</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/flipflop_diva/gifts">flipflop_diva</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Natasha curls her fingers lazily inside her. Holds her knee down when she bucks her hips to meet her. She goes slow but hard, Carol feeling every move she makes, and she doesn't once look up.</p><p>Natasha isn't one for kissing. Carol can live without foreplay. She's wet for her every time she meets her eyes, every time she sees her lips move. She's spent entire briefings looking at those lips, zoning out while getting into trouble for throwing a punch or two she shouldn't have. She's spent longer than she should rubbing her thighs together under the table at the thought of discipline, of Natasha bringing her to heel. She's slowly started to wait longer and longer to leave the control room, the others' holograms blinking out of existence one by one as Natasha studiously avoids her gaze. </p><p>She'd bet real money the other woman isn't used to real people any more. She asks questions and demands answers, gives clipped orders and expects to be obeyed. When Carol shows up at the mansion to see her, she's always either on her way back from the gym or on her way to the shooting range. Carol asks around: no one sees her eat. FRIDAY says she sleeps, sometimes, and refuses to answer further questions.</p><p>She never reaches out to touch anyone else.</p><p>Carol stuck around. First to see what made her tick, then really, just to look at her. Studied the tormented curves and angles of her face, the rise and fall of her jaw when she speaks. To her horror, she found sometimes she was even trying to get a smile out of her - break the stress. Natasha never cries, but she's never anything beyond professionally neutral; more often than not, she's fierce, determined, angry. </p><p>Carol can live with fierce, determined, angry. Something about it calls to her. Everything about Natasha calls to her, whether or not she acknowledges her existence. She's been imagining Natasha touching her all over, imagining her hands undoing her suit, Natasha choosing her livery every day. She's imagined flying under Natasha's colors to get her attention, get her eyes on her body for a few minutes longer. She's imagined that Natasha isn't one for kissing; wondered what she'd do instead when Carol finally managed to tempt her.</p><p>Carol waited for her, today. Sensed something was about to break. Probably not to the extent she wants - she hasn't been bad today, and Natasha won't let loose like she wants her to, not without some convincing. Still, while she paced the control room, Carol followed her eyes to her own legs, crossed lazily atop the desk like she knows frustrates her, makes her want. If she can't make Natasha laugh, she'll settle for making her want.</p><p>She caught her side with the toe of her boot, gently, the next time she walked by. Natasha caught her drift, and finally, finally, turned and reached out to touch.</p><p>Carol was right - Natasha isn't one for kissing. She's down and direct, down and dirty, teasing with her hands and not her mouth. Inching Carol's thighs apart with short-nailed fingers, leaving her hot and aching to brush against the backs of her knees. Saying, curt and clipped, "Upstairs, Danvers," and turning around, and expecting her to follow.</p><p>Natasha's quarters aren't what she'd expected. Messy, lived-in, human, real. Natasha's bedroom is large, expansive, piled with warm fabrics, easy to sink into, easy to let herself be shoved down, already releasing catch after catch from her own suit, haphazardly freeing herself. Natasha isn't one for kissing, but now she's inside of her, sensation sparking off her knuckles, the grind of her fingertips, the flick of her wrist. Carol abandons the effort to get her suit off halfway through, pieces hanging off her in odd places, scraping gently against her stomach, against her arms with the movement as she bucks up over and over, as her hands clutch at the sheets.</p><p>Natasha isn't one for kissing. Carol isn't one to beg. She wants her mouth, on her lips, on her thighs, on the heat of her powers, the heat of her core. She wants her <em>mouth</em>, she wants -</p><p>"Natasha, <em>please</em> - "</p><p>Natasha says, "I like it when you say please." </p><p>She doesn't look up, but there's a lazy, prowling pace to the next thrust of her fingers. Carol curses, throws her head back, and Natasha bends down and breathes on her, warm, turns her head to her inner thigh and presses a seal there with her lips, sucks sharp enough to leave a mark, and her fingers ripple inside of her, chase Carol higher and higher until she's gasping and crashing down and cursing again, her thighs loose as she rides Natasha's hand through the aftershocks.</p><p>"Hmm," Natasha says," I like it when you say that, too."</p><p>She's smiling, just the tiniest bit. Flushed, more than Carol's ever seen her. There are scorch marks when Carol's fingers leave the sheets.</p><p>"That'll wash out. Maybe next time I'll bind your hands."</p><p>"You have any handcuffs that can hold me?"</p><p>"I'll figure something out. Get some sleep, Danvers," she says, and leaves.</p><p>Carol does, falling asleep right where she's lying, pulling Natasha's red blankets over herself before she does.</p><p>*</p><p>She finds Natasha on the couch in the morning, wearing sweatpants and a hoodie and no bra, going through reports with a coffee mug in her hand. Carol moves to join her there. When Natasha squishes up to let her sit beside her, she pushes her hands aside and straddles her lap instead. </p><p>Natasha lets out a deep breath, reaches to put her mug away, then lets her hand rest on her thigh, and she takes that as her cue to kiss her. Natasha licks into her mouth, hot, inviting, and lets her be the one to stop, leaves her wondering how to give back.</p><p>"What do you want, Romanoff?" she says, cradling her face, her hands warming up despite herself, and curses when Natasha leans back lazily, licks a slow stripe up the side of her heated palm. Again when she presses a hand into her stomach to hold her back as she tries to grind down. Carol wishes she could find it in herself to hate her, just the tiniest bit, for the way she has her in the palm of her hand.</p><p>"What do you <em>want</em>, Romanoff," she grinds out again, tries to keep the eagerness out of her voice.</p><p>"I'll think about it," Natasha says. "Kiss me, Danvers." And so she does.</p>
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